


Ravaging Willows

by RhetoricFemme



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Artist!Kaoru, Basically Canonverse with a few alterations, Commoner!Kyouya, F/M, M/M, kyokao, takaharu, time jumps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:20:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7601425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhetoricFemme/pseuds/RhetoricFemme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a time of contemplation and realization for the host club. It's anyone's guess what might happen when feelings are acknowledged and opportunities presented, but is it better to go it alone, or to thrive as part of a team? Ravaging Willows follows pieces of Kyoya & Kaoru's relationship, as well as Haruhi and Takashi's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ravaging Willows

**Author's Note:**

> Ravaging Willows is a story that popped into my head nearly a year ago, with the intention of it being five, 500-word pieces. A writing exercise, basically. Yeah... I'm pretty sure Chapter One wasn't even a part of the initial plan, but here we are!
> 
> More notes at the end, if you're so inclined.

Haruhi is near silent when she glides up next to him, taking a few seconds askance for some kind of approval before sitting down. Unfortunately, she does not get it. That's not to say she doesn't _not_ get it, either, so.

Sighing heavily, she descends into a chair, eyes peeking tentatively out from the guarded space of her folded arms. The fact that Kyoya does not visibly acknowledge her does nothing to deter his new seatmate, and she waits for him to speak first.

"Hello, Haruhi. You're looking fine as frog's hair, today."

"Frogs don't have hair, Senpai."

"Indeed not."

"Well good afternoon to you, too."

"Afternoon, yes. Whether or not it's any good is up for debate."

Such behavior is especially terse, even for him, though Haruhi figures it's likely for a valid reason. At least, she hopes so. Sighing for a second time, she indicates her unwillingness to concede to Kyoya's attitude. Instead Haruhi straightens her spine, turning to lock in on the side-eye Kyoya's got trained on her.

"My apologies." He means it, though the gesture would likely be lost on anyone not presently enjoying a moment of respite inside Music Room Three. But then, it isn't often Kyoya drops his façade for anyone not privy to a key to this sacred space.

Staring at him, Haruhi takes stock of the way Kyoya doesn't bother looking away from the laptop in front of him. Its lid gleams silver from behind its uniform black case, a sleeve nearly identical to the notebook he's notoriously never without.

"How old is your Pineapple, Senpai?"

"Nearly a year. It's a refurb of the iBreeze 2.0."

"Wow." It isn't that Haruhi isn't impressed, exactly. It's no secret, however, that Hikaru and Kaoru have spent a considerable amount of time trying to catch Haruhi up with the tech standards of their generation, only to be met with mild interest. Or more often than not, apathy.

"If there's something you'd like to know, Haruhi, all you need to do is ask."

Why yes, she does have questions. Albeit of a very different nature. She pauses at this long enough that Kyoya does her the favor of detailing an inquiry she wasn't consciously aware she'd even had.

"I assume it has to do with the fact that my family doesn't have the means to provide it for me?"

"Oh! Um, it honestly hadn't crossed my mind, but now that you mention it."

"I bought it, myself."

"Oh."

"Despite what most of this student body might believe, secondhand is not synonymous to second-rate." Kyoya continues typing with one hand while the other pushes his glasses back atop his nose. "Ouran's student handbook strictly prohibits students from maintaining employment, but it says nothing about pseudonymous freelance ghostwriting."

At this, she gives a small laugh. "Of course you'd find a way to usurp the system. Very clever, Kyoya-Senpai."

"Scholarship students don't become scholarship students otherwise."

"Mm." Though Haruhi has never considered herself to be clever, one could certainly argue the simplicity of excluding the word _can't_ from her dictionary is clever enough in itself.

Another moment passes by before Kyoya speaks again, and when he does it's with the expectation that it's now Haruhi's turn to provide answers.

"But you didn't come over here to ask about my computer."

"Well, it wasn't the first thing to run through my mind, no."

"Well, then?"

"I'm just curious if you're at least going to allow me to be happy for two of the most troublesome men in my life?"

"I don't know," Kyoya breathes, his tone a balanced compliment to the steady tapping of laptop keys beneath suddenly tenuous fingers. "There are days when even I have trouble reconciling the lot of them. Today being one of them."

As if on cue, a beverage can be heard splashing somewhere across the music room, accompanied by Hikaru's grumbling and Kaoru's uninhibited laughter. Lacking any indication of shattered teaware, the disturbance prompts little response from Kyoya, though try as he might, the amusement manages to pull upward at the corner of his lips. The expression is just enough ammunition to spur Haruhi forward in her curiosities.

"Senpai? Are you and Kaoru dating?"

Same as his counterpart, Kyoya misses nothing. He continues to type while not bothering to hide the visibility of his threadbare nerves. Nor does he shy away from the fact that Haruhi has apparently noticed the wearisome growth of his unwanted-yet-unprecedented affections.

"I tutor Kaoru in German three nights a week, but I would hardly consider our time together dating."

Grinning quietly, Haruhi takes the morsel she's been offered, but chooses not to fully run with it. Regardless of how badly she wants to.

"Still can't believe he's taking another language," she drawls. "His English is better than mine any day, and he and Hikaru speak Spanish like they were brought up in Madrid."

Humoring her—humoring himself—Kyoya makes a noise in agreement. "No doubt the two of them employ Spanish in such a way as to be one of their secret languages."

"Definitely!" Haruhi laughs. "I think Kaoru's amazing."

Haruhi is granted credit for not insulting Kyoya's intelligence by complimenting both twins, when she really wishes to speak of only one. Regardless, she's still subject to a certain brand of silence that prompts her to deposit her head back into folded hands.

"I don't think you're obvious, you know. But I've noticed how you sometimes go out of your way to hand us reports or itineraries individually. It's more deliberate the way you hand things off to him." She says casually. "Or the way it sounds a little too forced when we're chatting in class and Kaoru calls you Kyoya- _Senpai_."

Nestling further into her arms, she peers out at Kyoya, who has since ceased typing and now seems to be analyzing the way Haruhi's tongue is peeking out from the side of her grinning mouth. Satisfied, Haruhi plays cute now that she's managed to say her piece.

That's not to say, however, baiting the shadow king is without consequence.

"How astute of you."

She shrugs.

"Westerners have a phrase for that, you know. I believe it says that it takes one to know one."

His words, though lacking contempt or malice, wipe the smile clean off Haruhi's face, and for one short moment Kyoya fears he might have pushed her away.

"That is to say, I see you, too."

"Really."

"Really. It seems Mori-Senpai does, too."

It's an unsettling, albeit thrilling notion; a confrontation of emotion she's yet to acknowledge outside of the circumstantial evidence she's collected within her mind. Kyoya's recognition brings with it a durability she can count on, but at this point Haruhi is uncertain whether or not she's ready to accept it.

"What about Tamaki-Senpai?"

"What about him?" It sounds callous, even to Kyoya's own ears, but he's also confident in Haruhi's ability to take the words in the way that he means. It's no secret that Kyoya has a much better eye for the big picture than his best friend, who he'll not have strung along in a long-term sort of way.

"Tamaki's resilient. It's better this way."

"With all of us still here, but Takashi and Hani-Senpai spending so much time at college, it makes me feel like I'm leading him on just by being his friend."

"Tamaki leads himself on." Kyoya interrupts in order to reassure her, but is admittedly surprised at how easily their senpai's given name rolls off her tongue. Perhaps it's this same fact that allows him to be so candid and to-the-point with her.

"Yeah… He does."

"Don't get me wrong, Tamaki'll be dramatic about it. He'll want your happiness more than anything, though."

"Which only makes me feel worse."

"Why? You haven't done anything wrong. And Tamaki isn't wrong when he goes on about how this is a sort of family. You don't see just anyone in here, do you? On top of which, _you_ were the only one of us Tamaki didn't hand pick to be a member of this club."

"Thanks, Senpai. That makes me feel loads better."

"It should. We were all just fine until you stumbled in here, a year into the operation, only to entirely shake things up. Believe me, Haruhi. You belong here as much as the rest of us, and I find it doubtful Tamaki will let go of that."

There aren't words sufficient enough for the sentiment, but Haruhi imagines Kyoya knows as much from the grateful smile she throws his way.

"I imagine you've been to a kendo match or two at this point, yes?"

"Three." She replies quickly, doing what she can to not feel so guilty. "If I get the rest of my studying done before leaving club, then another one tonight."

"Save for Hani and possibly Hikaru, that's most likely three-to-four more than the rest of us. We're all welcome, of course, but how many of us has Mori-Senpai actually invited to a match?"

"Mm."

"I imagine Tamaki would be further hurt if you were to find happiness only to hide it away."

"What about you, Senpai?"

Deflection: One. Kyoya: Zero.

Of course Haruhi wouldn't be so easily deterred.

"What about me, Haruhi?"

"You seem to have found something worthwhile with Kaoru." She counts on Kyoya to hear the earnestness in her voice, and decides to go on. "Are you not even going to explore it?"

Another eruption of laughter and though there is no admitting it, Kyoya can feel a set of amber eyes analyzing him from across the room. He makes a considerable effort to ignore it. "I'm not in a position to humor exploration or luxury. I have no time for relationships."

"And I _am_ in a position to humor exploration? I enjoy my life, Senpai, but it's not like it isn't a constant scramble for time. And I don't even know what you mean by luxury."

"You, Haruhi, have been blessed both by a supportive father, and seemingly an inclination toward traditional relationships. Perhaps making you the richest one of us all."

Unintentional or not, what Kyoya has to say stings, and this is where he leaves words behind. His expression apologizes for the crassness implied by everything he has failed to say, while he keeps his eyes trained on the pale, overworked hands that continue to move aggressively across the keyboard.

Haruhi hears all of it.

Kyoya knows too well that Haruhi aches for the maternal figure that for years now she has sorely lacked. He realizes that even his own circumstances and responsibility hold no comparison to her own. Where Kyoya answers to a father whose volition and illness hold him to near impossible standards, Haruhi is made to draw phantom comforts to convince herself that she now walks a path her mother would approve of.

But then, for every step Haruhi takes, she can look back toward a father whose encouragement and confirmation are always on her side.

And _that_ is luxury.

"Kyoya-Senpai, it doesn't seem like Kaoru is the only thing on your mind."

"What I wouldn't give to have only a singular thought on my mind."

They leave it at that.

At this point, the two of them are content to keep one another silent company, their noses dutifully buried in their work. Truth be told, Kyoya had been looking forward to this part of their exchange, as it would help validate the fact that he has little to no desire to look away from the various assignments and forms sitting in front of him.

Unfortunately, fate seems to not be on his side.

Each of the hosts looks up from whatever task had been at hand, when the music room doors crack open to reveal what appears to be a couple of frivolous-minded girls. In their case, it is a world of little consequence and abounding privilege. Today, however, Kyoya is intent that they will abide the impossible-to-miss display of their hours conveniently situated on the outside of the door.

Moving with a too-swift hand, Haruhi blocks his gesture before Kyoya can make contact and hastily close his laptop case. The grip she has on his wrist sends a message opposite from the expression on her face, which she's already fixed into an easy smile while she moves towards the girls as if hers is also world without care.

It's uncanny how she demonstrates two emotions at once, though there is no doubt in Kyoya's mind which to call out as the more authentic of the two. He's little energy with which to smile, though he feels it inside while thinking that somehow Haruhi has time and again managed to save them all.

He'd meant every word he'd said when referring to them as a family. What else do you call the people who don't require charts, graphs, and verbal explanations to know precisely who you are? So far as Kyoya can tell, these are requisite traits one values in family; self-fashioned or otherwise.

Haruhi offers one last pleasantry before shutting the girls onto the public side of the music room doors before that saccharine grin simply melts away. What rises in its places as she walks toward Tamaki, is a candid and apologetic smile.

"Sorry Senpai," She says with honesty. "I already have plans tonight."

Tamaki catches her entirely off guard when he nods in understanding, and asks her to pass along an omamori and well-wishes to Mori-Senpai in his place. Wide-eyed, Haruhi pockets the talisman while accepting the arm he throws across her shoulders.

Kyoya does what he can to stifle the conversation from his ears, with the last words he acknowledges coming from the twins as they inform Haruhi of an outfit their mother has set aside for her, should she want it.

From here on everything sinks into a blur; an amalgamation of the introspection and cheer that he has every right and expectation to be a part of, were it not for his own oppressive familial obligations.

Alas. It is what it is.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You might've noticed a discrepancy from canon here, in that Kyoya is a commoner in this story. My headcanon for this story is that all major canon events and circumstances still stand (Kyoya and Tamaki's friendship establishes when it does, as does the club, other manga-centric events, etc.), as does Kyoya's canon ambition and personality. He's still the intelligent, charismatic, amazingly resourceful person that he's always been. And essentially, Ootori is still a known name.
> 
> Where Ouran's concerned, I've always preferred to stay closer to canon, but I can also remember the first time a little what-if of Kyoya being a commoner scholarship student popped into my head. And it's not left since. 3
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!


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